


i could hang forever from the stars

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Season/Series 02, Shiro (Voltron) Needs a Hug, Sickfic, indian/desi!adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 17:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16521290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Shiro wakes up sick and a bunch of things happen.Lance makes tea.The others are also sick.Shiro thinks about things.Not in that order.





	i could hang forever from the stars

**Author's Note:**

> this... Honestly, I just wanted to write a Shiro sickfic and it ended up being emotional and stuff. And I added Lance, because...
> 
> why not? 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

He's sick. Honestly quiznacking sick.

 Shiro doesn't know why the revelation makes something like relief creep into his chest. He glances down at his Galra arm, wondering if feeling like crap reassured him that he was still human, in some sense. The joints of the metal hand clench, creak, and he pushes himself out of bed.

 They've got a diplomatic mission scheduled sometime soon with the planet Auroles, and Shiro had promised Allura that'd he'd look over some possible measures they could take, and the roles they would assign the paladins. Being sick in _no_ way is going to stop that.

  _Jeez, Takashi, breathe, okay? Just breathe, please._

 The voice is in his head before he can stop it, and it slices, painful and sharp.

  _Shiro, aren't you supposed to be the medic? How'd you get sick? You're like a wall…. a big, socially awkward wall._

 There's no memory coming with it - no flash of people or familiarity, just two voices that he kept locked away because he wouldn't- _couldn’t_ think about them, deep in space, away from both of them.

 Unfortunately, this time thinking about them leads him walking into a wall.

 He's on the floor for a few moments, not talking until Allura says, all formal and proper, “Shiro? Are you alright?”

 Shiro bolts up, and his cheeks are probably tomato red because he looks like crap, he's still in his sleep clothes, and his hair is… terrible. Seriously, in space he still has terrible bedhead. Allura doesn't look fazed, and before he says anything, she sighs.

 “You're ill as well, aren't you?”

 The question hits him, and he answers, “You mean everyone else is too?”

 Something like worry creeps in the princess’s face, and she answers, “Yes - something about the ice planet we went to - the inhabitants have apparently passed a virus on the majority of the paladins. Of course, Coran and I are unaffected, and…”

 There's something about her voice, so Shiro waits.

 “...and Lance, apparently was not as well.” Her voice is grudging, but there is the smallest note of respect.

 It suddenly dawns upon Shiro that Lance is probably going to hold this over Keith’s head until the end of time and he mentally groans. But, at least Lance is alright - they need someone to hold down the fort, and Lance’s people- skills will keep everything in check.

 “...do you want to me to-”

 Allura’s elegant eyebrows have contorted into a caterpillar, and she says forcefully, “ _No._ Having our paladins working will only worsen the illness. Anyway… Lance said it looked similar to the… common cold?”

 Shiro sighs, and a cough shakes his shoulders. “It's a human disease. It's non-fatal, and we should all be better in a couple of days.” Allura brightens up at that, and she goes to leave. At the last moment, she glances back in and there is something soft and careful about her features.

 “You all need some rest, don't you?”

 She leaves before Shiro can answer.

 He gets up off the floor, and contemplates whether he should go train anyway. He winces - the last time Keith had gotten sick, he'd tried to face off multiple levels of the gladiator and ended up worse and with a few nasty bruises. So, Shiro flops on his bed unceremoniously, something in his mind silently thankful that for at least one day, he's not composed, perfect, orderly Shiro. That he gets to sleep in the most awkward position, that he feels like crap, and that he can be nothing more than a painfully sick, terribly awkward twenty five year old.

 

 

 “Shiro!”

 He awakes, and it's gradually painful. The congestion kicks in unhelpfully, and he doesn't want to turn over from the pillow.

 It's a while later before he recognizes the voice as Lance’s.

 “Huh?” he says unceremoniously, and there are the light taps on the ground, gradually becoming closer and closer.

 He finally sits up to face Lance’s grin, but his blue eyes are deeply worried. His gaze slides down to the tea cup in his hands, filled with something pleasantly lilac.

 “I… uh, made tea from this fruit called ackleberries? It's from that planet we went on - Coran contacted them and they said this was good, so drink up!” Lance gently places the cup, warm, but not hot in his hands. Shiro looks at him, asks, “Why aren't you with the others?”

 Something on Lance’s face droops, for a second, before he responds brightly. “Hunk and Pidge like to sleep it out, and if I mention my superior immune system to Keith or give him tea, he’ll probably bite my head off. So…”

 He gestures to the cup. “Apparently it tastes like blackberries, so…” His face is careful to disguise his fear, but Shiro can see the need for approval. It's a recognizable trait at the Garrison, and he can see echoes of it now, when the others look at him.

 He doesn't get it. He's nothing special.

 Shiro takes a sip, a small one. The tea is tart, warm and does actually taste like blackberries. His throat responds well, and when he clears it, it only burns a little. He looks at Lance and smiles.

 “Thanks,” he says, and Lance's face breaks into a grin, then goes a little confused and soft. 

 “Er… I was just going to train, but like… I can stay? If you want more tea, or something. " 

 Shiro can feel his eyebrows bunch, but gives Lance a small grin. "Alright," he says. "That's okay."

Lance climbs in next to him, and there is a hesitant, tense silence. It's the silence between instructors and students at the Garrison and it's not good.

 He breaks it. “When did you learn to make tea?”

 Lance looks at him, a shadow of surprise alighting his face, but he answers, voice nostalgic. “My _mama_ and I would make them for my sisters and brothers when they got sick. It became kind of a habit, I guess?”

 Lance mentions his family a lot - more so than the others, but it's never with that tone. Shiro breaks the resulting silence. “Is it just your brothers and sisters, or…”

 At this Lance grins. “Well, actually, I'm the youngest, so most of my siblings are married and have kids. So, _lots_ of nieces and nephews.” His voice has turned wistful, almost sad, and anger bites at Shiro, asking why he took him- _them_ all away.

 “What about you?”

 Shiro breaks out of his self imposed stupor with an elegant “Huh?”

 Lance's voice trips on itself. “I mean, I know you've got Keith, but do you have anyone else waiting at home?”

 Obasan and Ojisan appear first. Shiro still remembers them assigning chores around the house, right until the day he left for the Garrison. He remembers Obasan holding his face and whispering to to stay safe and healthy, Ojisan helping him pack up his room. They probably thought he was dead, he thinks, the sick thought tangling up his insides. He said he would stay safe, but he lied, _god,_ to the people that raised him, ended up millions of miles away.

 So he stays quiet, not daring to talk about them, because he _can't,_ and then, right after-

 Adam.

  _Adam._

 Lance is comfortably situated beside him, but not encroaching, not waiting for an answer. There's enough space to shift and wiggle, but still close enough to grab a limb or a hand for support. He's not looking at Shiro, but just… he's warm. It's nice.

 “I… had a fiance, Lance.” He surprises himself even saying it- how will it be easier to talk about Adam? Lance turns to him, eyes wide and suddenly struck with the slightest sadness - not for himself, never himself, and Shiro wishes he could erase it.

  _Had_ hurts, deep inside, but it's true.

 It's silent for a few moments.

 “What were they like?”

 Shiro doesn't anticipate the question, so when it happens, a bombardment of _Adam_ shoves itself in his head. Suddenly, he can recall Adam’s wide pale brown eyes, persistent and faithful, the sharp curve of his jaw, how his glasses would sit on his nose the slightest bit askew, the way that his lips tasted almost always like coffee.

 His eyes burn, and he bites on his lip. Metal floods his mouth.

 “Adam was…”

 How can he describe him, anyway? It's not as if all of those memories could be consolidated in one word, one phrase, or even a sentence. A memory suddenly tickles him, of Adam curling in on his shoulder as they watched meteors splatter the sky.

 Adam had suddenly laughed, and Shiro had been confused.

 “What's up, Adam?”

 Adam looked at him, his mouth edging in the biggest smirk.

 “We’re just like the goddamn dinosaurs, Takashi.”

 “How?”

 “One day, these meteoroids are going to hit us, and humanity will be gone. Done. Finished. Obliter-”

 Shiro had grinned, maybe, at how Adam’s face folded into a mask of happiness, the comforting weight on his shoulder. He had leaned over and captured his lips, mid sentence, sighing as Adam settled a hand on his hip.

 Adam had smiled afterwards, a little soft.

 “You're volatile, Takashi Shirogane, you know that?”

 “That's why you love me.”

 “And a goddamn sap. I have made some poor freaking choices in life, you know that?”

 He hasn't finished the sentence, but when he comes back, Shiro notes the pinkness that has skittered across Lance’s tan cheeks.

 “Adam - you don't mean, like, Adam Wadekar, right? Like, Head of Astrophysics Adam Wadekar, with the glasses, and the freckles and-” He’s rambling, but as soon as he notices that Shiro’s actually listening, Lance clams up.

 Shiro doesn't register why that's weird for a few seconds, but then he does, and he laughs. It's almost unfamiliar, but Lance blushing is downright _adorable_. And the reason why is even more adorable. For the briefest moment, he wonders what Adam would have thought.

 “Yes - it's him.”

 He finds the underlying question in Lance’s eyes.

  "I’m gay, Lance.”

 There’s something that settles on the cliff of Lance’s thin shoulders - something like content maybe, or relief. Shiro mentally documents the information away for a talk later on, but right now, his brain is being ping-ponged in three million directions and his chest aches, so he doesn't push it. He moves a little bit closer to Lance, and Lance leans over and pillows his head on Shiro’s shoulder. His hand goes up to card gently through Shiro’s hair, and he's repetitive, knowledgeable, as if he's done this a million times. He probably has, Shiro thinks, for a second.

 Lance's hand and head drop down and he says, face half smushed in the pillow, “ _Now,_ you're going to take a nap. We can't have our fearless leader getting sick on us, can we?”

 Shiro grins, and responds, “Isn't he the blue one?” Lance is silent for a few seconds, maybe out of shock, later propping his head on his elbow and turning deep blue eyes upward.

 He's not leaving.

 Something warm ignities in Shiro's chest, but the leader in him spits out, “You're going to get sick.”

 Lance shoots him a grin. “Amazing immune system, remember? Plus it wouldn't be that important anyway.”

 His voice has morphed into something quiet and unyielding and a part of Shiro's heart breaks.

 “That's not true,” he says amidst the crappiness and the congestion, thoughts of _pain pain pain no no no please not them please_ filling his mind. He almost sees a purple tint around the room and he shivers.

 Lance doesn't say anything, but after a tense moment, he buries his head in Shiro's side. It's a weight, but not an uncomfortable one, and Shiro anchors an arm, gently, gently under his shoulders. Their roles have been reversed - but Lance has let him listen and be sick, has made tea and let him be stupid and sentimental. It only makes sense to return the favor.

 “I'm sorry,” Lance says, softly. “Everybody's sick and I'm getting over emotional.”

 Shiro shakes his head and thinks about a fifteen year old Keith, saying the same things, the same loathing etched in his voice. He's scared, sometimes, when he sees Keith violently attacking the gladiator, letting blood pool on his scraped elbows and knees, and it had only been when Keith had told him he was okay that he'd calmed down about it.

 Lance is quiet for a while, and it's only when Shiro feels warm puffs of air at his hip that he realizes he's asleep. He turns over only to find a nest of brown hair smushed at his side. Shiro sinks a little, anchored to Lance, and lets himself think.

 He thinks about Keith staring at the stars when he thinks no one can see, thinks about both of them eating the crappy Garrison froyo, Keith's eyes going cheeky as he flicks some at Shiro. He thinks about Hunk baking and repairing the lions and Pidge peering at her laptop at odd hours of the night. He thinks of Allura humming old Altean lullabies under her breath and Coran watching over them and treating their injuries. He thinks of Lance knitting slippers and making tea.

 He imagines Black purring gently, a hum of intergalactic music.

 He lets himself imagine Matt talking about something with a fiery passion, hands waving. He wonders about Ojisan and Obasan speaking in melodic Japanese back at home. And, for half a moment, he lets himself see Adam grinning, a galaxy of the brightest stars.

 Shiro wonders about it all, just for a bit. His chest aches with something new and welcome - but it's a good sort. He can deal with that. It's welcome, compared to waking up in cold sweat, tears dried on his face. Anything is.

 He's supposed to be a leader. But in reality, he's just Takashi Shirogane, and Takashi Shirogane has always been someone else first.

 Right now, he's sick, feeling crappy and awfully tired, and for one day, it's okay.

 He closes his eyes, Lance burrowed next to him, the others safe in the castle for now, and falls into a quiet, welcome darkness.


End file.
